


Hiring policies

by goukyorin (sashimisusie)



Series: With love, from Vladivostok [1]
Category: Shadowrun
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s), Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 08:12:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sashimisusie/pseuds/goukyorin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The people that Luba Vasiilivna normally entertains in her office are polite, if not respectful. The company she keeps doesn’t sit on her expensive desk. And most importantly, the company she normally keeps doesn’t come unannounced before 08:00.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hiring policies

Luba did her best thinking in the small hours of the night, when the office buildings were empty of all but the tireless drones. There was something about the empty silence that begged her to fill it with ideas. It was almost poetic, the way the glare of the lights beneath the dim glow of her own office spurred her creativity to new heights. Maddening heights, some might have said but there was a method to her madness.

She snapped her fingers together, the sudden noise loud in the silence of her empty office. She turned mid-stride towards her desk, intent on writing down her latest train of thought.

There was someone sitting on her desk. The man’s hand rested carelessly on the desk’s inset panel but she could read the illuminated numbers from where she stood. 03:45, the panel read. It was much too early for the company she normally kept in her office.

Luba put her hand on her hip, waving her other hand in an irritated shooing motion. Youth these days had no respect for high quality office furniture. “Can my imminent death wait for a moment? I have to get this thought down.”

He picked up his helmet wordlessly and shifted to the other end of the desk. As Luba typed on the inset keyboard, she noticed that he hadn’t left any handprints behind. There were no alarms being set off and no other evidence that there was a stranger in her office besides the young man leaning against her desk.

Infiltrators. She would have to have another talk with the head of security about tightening up the anti-infiltrator measures, even if this was just Vladivostok. Especially because this was Vladivostok.

“Are you with the spetsnaz?” Luba asked in between keystrokes and flicks of AR screens. “I have been the very image of accommodation with regards to their reasonable demands.”

The young man laughed lightly, rolling his helmet around idly as he spoke. “I’m not here on state business.”

“Are you a foreigner, then? You can’t possibly be a runner from Aztechnology or Shiawase. You look too competent for the former and too Russian for the latter.”

“I’m not a shadowrunner. At least, not yet,” he shrugged. “It’s a bit of a long story—”

Luba pushed back her chair and reached for what was left of her coffee. “—one that I’m not interested in. I know you’re not going to tell me who you are. Don’t give me that look; I wasn’t born yesterday. What do you want from me?”

“Luba Vasiilivna, there is an opening in your security department. I would like that position.”

The nerve of this one! She chuckled, being careful not to let the coffee slosh out of her mug. “I most certainly do not have an open position! Even if I did, I wouldn’t give that position to you. What makes you think that you can just walk into my office and get a job?”

“I just did,” he said with a smile. The sort of unnerving but polite expression that Luba herself might put on for a client cornered into signing a deal. “As for your earlier statement, you might want to check the feeds again.”

She gave him a suspicious stare and brought up the AR screen for the security feeds. Everything appeared to be just as it should, except for one thing that she hadn’t noticed before.

“Well, that's unfortunate,” she murmured. “I do believe that I require a new head of security.”

“Under normal circumstances, I would be pleased to give you my dossier,” he offered pleasantly.

“So what’s the hold-up?”

“Unfortunately, I'm supposed to be dead right now.”

*

The state newsnet went wild when three rising ballet stars were found the next day with their throats cut, with no trace of a struggle at all. Strange accident or suicide, the media outlets screamed in bold letters. The tabloids went wild with speculation about jealous lovers and ruthless co-stars.

Sergei smiled from behind his new EVO-branded AR shades, and took a sip from his coffee. He leaned forwards across his new desk to adjust the placard engraved with his new name and rank.

Head of Security (Sergei Ivanov Vasilyev), it read in laser-etched letters. Not a bad name and definitely a raise. Especially in pay and in his line of work, the pay was what he cared the most about.

He gave a slight nod to the security camera, where he knew Luba Vasiilivna was watching. Sergei sighed contently as he breathed in the smell of real freshly-brewed coffee. “I could definitely get used to this.”


End file.
